A Hard Road
by Jaimie-Erin
Summary: Aragorn and Legolas struggle with the loss of a friend. Each tries to help the other, and neither looks after themselves. Don't worry, no character death.
1. Chapter 1

A Hard Road

**A Hard Road**

**By**

**Jaimie-Erin**

**Fiction Rating:** T (Teen)

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, written for entertainment, nothing else**.**

**A/N**: This was written for the Teitho theme, "Growing Up".

It wasn't fair.

No matter how often Aragorn looked away and then back again, nothing changed. Arandorion never changed.

It wasn't fair, _it wasn't fair, IT WASN'T FAIR_!

It was the only thing going through the man's mind as he stared at the elf's lifeless body. The battle still raged around him, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that his lifelong friend now lay in front of him, a black-shafted arrow protruding from his heart.

He felt something slam into his chest and he was knocked backwards, away from the body of the elf. He didn't think to use his sword; rather, he dropped it and punched whoever had knocked him over squarely in the stomach. A sharp grunt, born of surprise more than real pain, told him he had just hit Legolas.

"Oh, mellon-nin, I'm so sorry!" he said.

Legolas paid him no attention; he was shooting arrows at breakneck speed at the oncoming orcs, fighting with twice the ferocity to make up for Aragorn's inactivity.

Finally getting his senses back, he grabbed his sword and moved over to defend Arandorion's body from coming to further harm.

The battle was over quickly; the orcs had never really stood a chance against the ambush of elves. Aragorn had only killed about five before the rest had turned and fled their camp, vanishing into the trees.

Finally, with no distraction left from his grief, Aragorn sank to the ground next to Arandorion. _I won't cry, I won't cry, he looks like this when he sleeps anyway..._

_Except for the blood_, a small voice in the back of his head reminded him. _Except for the arrow. Except for the pale skin. Except for the lack of a pulse. Except for –_

"I KNOW!" Aragorn cried out loud.

The remaining elves paused from checking the heartbeats of fallen warriors to stare at the man, who ignored them.

Legolas fell to his knees beside the ranger. It was only when Aragorn had cried out that the elf had looked this direction and had seen the lifeless body of his friend.

Images flashed through the wood elf's mind, images of his childhood shared with the man next to him and the recently dead elf. He was five, in human reckoning, and had fallen out of a tree when he decided to show off and do a cartwheel on one of the branches. He had gotten away with a few scratches, and Arandorion had comforted him as he cried. He was twelve, and had just beaten Arandorion at an archery competition. The other elf had taken it hard, and Legolas had agreed to equally split his prize – a quiver full of arrows of the finest quality – with his friend. He was forty seven, and had taken an arrow to his lower chest. Arandorion and Aragorn had fought their way through twenty orcs to get him to safety. Legolas had not been able to do the same for his friend.

He put his arm around Aragorn's shoulders, which were shaking from the man's effort to hold back grief.

"We have to go," Legolas said in a near-whisper what seemed like hours later, but was really only about fifteen minutes.

Aragorn nodded, his head still lowered to the ground. The elf knew it was a poor attempt to disguise his tears. The ranger walked over to Arandorion and pulled the arrow free from his friend's chest before picking him up, his body shaking as he did so.

Legolas watched from the sidelines, every inch of his being spilling compassion for both man and dead elf. He spared none for himself as he completely ignored his tears; choosing instead to comfort his one remaining best friend.

He rode the journey back to the Mirkwood palace next to Aragorn. He felt numb; numb to the entire world save Aragorn and Arandorion. He was dimly aware of one of the soldiers asking him a question, but his mind did not register what. Eventually the elf made his own decision and moved away.

Many elves died in the fight against the Shadow. What made the loss of Arandorion so traumatic for the Mirkwood prince was not only the fact that they had been best friends, but also the horrors that were Arandorion's parents.

X X X X

Arandorion had grown up with two older brothers and one younger sister. His brothers had already joined Mirkwood's patrols when he was old enough to begin training.

Iauron, his oldest brother, loved nature and trees even more than most wood elves. There had not been a single moment during his childhood that he had not been out in the garden. Then, once he had grown, his parents destroyed his ambitions to become a healer. He had been forced, against his will, to fight, and he had taken his own life two years later.

Maethorion, the second brother, had likewise been ordered into the patrols. He had been planning on doing so anyway, so it was not such a bad thing to happen. He settled down with a beautiful wife, who became pregnant with a daughter. Four days before her birth, Maethorion was killed fighting the spiders.

His sister, Alassëa, learned from the time she walked to cook, clean, and be a good wife. Her family was highly traditional, a fact that was constantly being forced upon her. She was suffocating, and still was to this day.

Arandorion never got any praise. Everything he did was wrong. Not all elvish families were good and kind, a fact he had always loved to press upon men he met who admired the Firstborn.

X X X X

Legolas choked back a sob as he thought of this. He had always promised Arandorion that things would get better for him, that he would find a lovely, untraditional wife and have lots of children. Now that promise would never come to pass.

Why could Legolas not have saved Arandorion? He had saved Aragorn from an arrow, pushing him to the ground out of harm's way at last moment. It had earned him a punch in the stomach, but so be it. Why could he not have done the same for Arandorion?

He passed through the gates to the palace without really seeing them. He dismounted and handed his horse over to one of the stable hands wordlessly before turning and taking Arandorion from Aragorn's horse. He set his gaze firmly upward; he wanted his memories of the elf to be ones with him laughing, not ones with his blood-stained corpse showing no emotion.

Aragorn was not dismounting. He looked as though he had forgotten how. Legolas swallowed against the lump in his throat and handed the dead elf over to another before pulling his human friend to the ground. He would have to save his grief for another time. Right now, Estel needed him.

X X X X

Elf and ranger sat together on Legolas's bed, talking quietly. Aragorn, now that he was in private, was weeping freely. He could believe that Arandorion was dead, and the logical part of his mind did believe so; but he could also refuse to accept it, as the emotional part of him was doing. He continued to sit on the bed and ramble on about absolutely nothing, ignoring the meaning behind the consoling hand on his left shoulder.

As for Legolas, he felt somehow numb. He could not seem to access his own emotions. All he could think of was the inner turmoil of the man he called brother.

He was barely listening to Aragorn's speech. He thought it was about one of the twins' pranks, though that had been ten minutes ago and he could not be sure whether the ranger was still talking about that. Instead, he was listening to Aragorn's soul.

The man's eyes spoke of what the conversation did not: pain. His body language, too, betrayed this. He was slightly hunched over, his hands crossed over and tensely gripping the sides of his stomach rather hard. It was probably more painful for Legolas to see than for Aragorn to feel.

Suddenly the man looked up, and his eyes were gazing intently into those of the elf.

"I know you aren't listening, Legolas," he said, though his voice held no hint of blame.

Legolas blinked but did not say anything.

Aragorn sat up straighter, his hands coming away from his stomach. "How are you taking this?"

Legolas blinked again. "I am fine," he lied. "I don't think you are. You haven't been acting right since the battle."

"Don't change the subject," said Aragorn, a little sharply. His eyes continued to bore into Legolas's. "You are the one who has not been acting right. You've become numb. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Legolas was silent, though he had acquired the look of an elfling caught in a wrongdoing, though slightly sadder.

"You're an elf," Aragorn continued in a softer voice. "You can't continue pretending. I know you're taking this hard, but pushing it away isn't going to help.

They both knew that "this" and "it" referred to Arandorion's death.

Suddenly, Legolas let out a sob, and tears he hadn't known he was holding back flowed. Aragorn wrapped his arms around him and held him until the sobs died down.

**A/N**: I'd love it if you would review. I'm really sick at the moment, I need something to read and make me feel better. Lol.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Still really sick… can't sleep… thought I might post for something to do.

Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews. Also, it was pointed out, and I completely agree, that I'm not very good at writing settings and stuff, so if you see a bit that could be improved, that's what I'm working on with my writing right now, so please tell me!

X X X X

"Report?" Thranduil muttered, sifting through a pile of papers. He looked exhausted.

"We ambushed a large party of orcs who had set up camp," Legolas muttered just as quietly as his father had spoken. "We killed most of them, but a few fled into the forest, back towards Dol Guldur."

"Did you pursue them?" Thranduil asked, not looking up.

It was at moments like these that Legolas hated the fact that his father was king. All of the other soldiers would probably be in their homes right now, being served up warm meals and receiving hugs from family members. Legolas never got that until after the report, Thranduil's paperwork, a possible council meeting and various other duties.

He didn't want to tell his father that he did not know what had become of the orcs who had run away. That was an unacceptable mistake on his part. He had been so swept up in Arandorion's death and trying to comfort Aragorn that he had not bothered to ask.

"Legolas?"

"I-" Legolas swallowed. "I don't know."

"Oh," was all Thranduil said. He blinked a couple of times. "Any casualties?"

Legolas opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He looked at the ground.

"Legolas?" Thranduil asked again.

"Four dead, two wounded." He had not looked up throughout that sentence. He was now working very hard to keep his emotions in check.

"Ion-nin?" The king now sounded concerned. It was common knowledge that his son tried to hide injuries. "You aren't hurt, are you?"

Legolas shook his head. He did not trust himself to speak anymore.

Thranduil raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Not me," Legolas said with difficulty. "Arandorion."

Thranduil's face immediately softened. He stood up and walked around his desk to hug his son.

"How bad is he?" he asked as Legolas buried his face into his father's shoulders.

"Dead," Legolas mumbled before letting go of all emotion and sobbing.

Thranduil did not say anything more; he just held his son until the sobs subsided.

X X X X

The funeral had been short, but was still immeasurably painful. It was a funeral not just for Arandorion, but for all the elves who had died protecting the woodland realm that week. It was devastating that enough elves died to make weekly mass funerals necessary.

Aragorn and Legolas sat on a bench in the courtyard, not saying a word. The sky above them was a testament to their emotions: it was tumultuous and grey.

"I've realized something, Legolas," Aragorn said slowly. "No matter how painful it is, death is a part of growing up. I've matured; I see it in myself, when I'm alone in the dead of night... Everyone has challenges they must face, this is mine, and yours, too."

Legolas stared at the ground, though his next words betrayed the anger he felt. "You are mortal. Death is a part of your life. But it's not a part of mine! Arandorion was an elf, he wasn't supposed to die, and I wasn't supposed to watch him die! Do you have any idea what that feels like?" He glared suddenly up at his human friend. "To have to sit there and watch while all your friends, everything you hold dear, your _home_, is slaughtered before you? Estel, I –" He stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked, not the least put off by Legolas's outburst. He needed to have an outlet for his emotions.

Legolas looked back down at the ground. He looked somehow... defeated. The sight broke Aragorn's heart.

"Estel, I think I am fading."

Aragorn's head snapped up. "No, you are not fading! You promised to stay with me!"

Legolas looked up again, a humourless laugh in his eyes. "And you promised me you would fulfil your destiny. But it a blade pierces your heart, do you have a choice in the matter? No. You would die as surely as I am dying."

"LEGOLAS!" Aragorn cried. "You are NOT dying! If you are, you still have the choice to save yourself!"

"Why?" Legolas asked, that same humourless laugh still evident in his eyes. "What have I got to live for? See more friends die? See my home slowly destroyed? You will die, Estel. Not for many years, but you will die eventually. And what will be left on Arda for me?"

"You're a prince!" Aragorn said desperately. "You have to ascend the throne just like I have to! What will your people do if Thranduil sails and they don't have an heir?"

"I would not want to remain in a world where I have no family left. I don't want my father to sail before me. I won't ascend the throne. Besides, if things keep going the way they have been with the fight against the Shadow, there won't be a throne to ascend. Respect my wishes, Estel. Let me die."

With that, Legolas got up and walked away.

X X X X

Aragorn spent the remainder of the day following his elven friend from a distance. Legolas spent the day attending mostly to matters of state: paperwork, council meetings (through which Aragorn hid just outside the chamber, waiting for him to come back out), and planning for future patrols. When all this was done, he went to his room and shut the door.

Aragorn finally decided it was time, once again, to confront the woodland prince. He raised a determined hand and knocked hard on Legolas's door.

To his great surprise, it was answered almost immediately. Legolas was looking at the ground, but that did not disguise the fact that he had been crying. He stepped aside and gestured for the ranger to enter.

Aragorn did so. He sat down on the bed, waiting for the elf to join him.

"We need to talk, Legolas," said Aragorn seriously.

Legolas, still standing at the door, nodded and sat down on the bed next to the man.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I've been thinking, and I've decided that, even though we elves don't die, and we shouldn't have to suffer the death of a friend, we do mature. We grow too. Many of my friends have died, but I was not as close to any of them as I was to Arandorion. And I will have to watch you die, Estel. I don't want to, but I will have to, and I'm going to. I'll be there for you. I promise I won't die."

Aragorn hadn't noticed the tears upon his cheeks as the elf spoke, but he noticed them now. Legolas would be there for him as Aragorn had always known he would be.

"Thank you, mellon nin," Aragorn said in a very quiet voice. He reached forward and hugged his best friend, knowing that each would never let the other go.

X X X X

**A/N**: That was sweet. Lol!

Thank you, once again, for all the reviews, and for any I'll get for this chapter. They mean a lot. Lurkers, thanks too, and I woud really like to see what you think.


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